


A Personal Letter

by TinyFakeFanficRock



Series: Park's Quests [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/F, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyFakeFanficRock/pseuds/TinyFakeFanficRock
Summary: Betsy never knows what to write to the people back home.  The Courier is happy to ... provide advice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Fallout Kink Meme.

For the first time since they'd started seeing each other, Bernie beat Betsy to their regular room at Gomorrah. Almost unsure what to do with herself without her girlfriend immediately pinning her with kisses to the bed -- _or chair, or wall, or floor ..._ \-- she settled for getting comfortable. She stripped off her boots, socks, and pants and undid the first two buttons of her shirt before she stopped and flopped back onto the cool silk sheets. She should leave Betsy _some_ unwrapping to do; the corporal usually took the lead during sex, and that was fine with Bernie. There was a lot to be said for her younger lover's fierce enthusiasm, the way she pressed scorching kisses down her body ... _mmmm_.

Bernie lay idly daydreaming -- and becoming steadily more aroused -- until Betsy finally arrived. "Took you long enough, dream girl."

"Yeah, I had to stop and pick up my damn mail," Betsy replied, throwing a stack of envelopes on the desk by the door and kicking off her boots and socks. "I know I should be happy about it -- Sterling's brother only writes him every few months, and Bitter-Root never gets any mail -- but when people back home write to me, I have to answer them, or I feel like an even bigger asshole than I already am. And I hate writing letters." She shrugged out of her jacket, leaving her in just her khaki pants and a gray sleeveless shirt that fit so closely it left Bernie licking her lips already. Today suddenly did not feel like a day where she would let Betsy take the reins.

"I used to like writing to people, but damn, I haven't done it since my first girlfriend joined up with the NCR and went away for basic training." Bernie skimmed her hand over Betsy's breasts, watching her nipples stiffen beneath the thin fabric.

"Another soldier? You have a type, huh?" Betsy sat on the bed beside her and idly thumbed open the remaining buttons on Bernie's shirt.

"Psssh, she was nowhere near as sexy as you are. Plus she couldn't aim for shit. But I don't want to talk about her." An idea started to blossom in Bernie's mind, and not wanting to lose the initiative, she kissed Betsy and unzipped her pants. "I'm going to give you some letter-writing advice."

Betsy raised a quizzical eyebrow. "That's some weird-ass sweet talk."

"I'm helping you out," said Bernie innocently, sliding her hands under Betsy, pulling at her waistband.

"Helping me out of my pants, maybe," she retorted, lifting her hips obligingly.

"Mmm, that too." The pants dispensed with, she plucked at the hem of Betsy's shirt; Betsy took the cue and yanked it over her head. Bernie ran her cheek along the soft skin of Betsy's bare shoulder, kissed up her neck, and spoke quietly in her ear as she unhooked Betsy's bra.

"So the easiest way to start is to think about the letter they sent you. If there's anything that was particularly interesting --" here she broke off to stroke the recently-discovered sensitive spot on Betsy's side, just above her waist -- "or something you had questions about, go ahead and start there. You can also answer any questions they asked you."

Betsy was already starting to squirm eagerly under her hands. "This is about how last time I said I wished you'd take charge more often, isn't it?"

Bernie only grinned and kissed her, hard. "Now, you don't have to tell them everything that's happened since the last time you wrote. Pick a story you think they'll like and do a good job telling it ... _thoroughly_." She went back to kissing Betsy fervently.

When she broke off to strip away their remaining clothing, Betsy said, eyes glowing, "Definitely liking this ... story."

"Good. Now, remember to be thorough. Pay attention to every --" she tweaked Betsy's left nipple -- "last --" she tweaked the right -- "detail." She rubbed her fingers lightly over the hair on Betsy's mound, then teased along her labia. Bernie lowered her head and fastened her lips around Betsy's nipple, sucking it to a hard, glistening point. When she stopped to switch to the other nipple, she slipped her fingers between Betsy's lips, allowing herself a contented hum at how deliciously wet she found her. Then she swept Betsy's other nipple into her mouth and let her first two fingers glide home, running her thumb in circles around Betsy's clit.

She continued alternating between nipples, adding love-bites, and crossing and uncrossing her fingers inside her until Betsy was moaning loudly and grinding her hips against Bernie's hand. She weighed the urge to bury her face between Betsy's legs against her sudden impulse toward mischief and found, to her surprise, that mischief was winning. For now.

"Then make sure you ask how they're doing," she added, sliding her fingers halfway out and raising an inquiring eyebrow, face the picture of honest curiosity.

"I think you fucking know how I'm doing," Betsy replied impatiently, wriggling downward to try to recapture Bernie's fingers.

Bernie pulled her hand back a little further. "Yes, but I want to hear you say it." 

"God, fuck, you crazy bitch, you're so fucking hot you can turn me on talking about writing fucking letters, I'll say anything you want, just keep fucking doing --" Bernie slid her fingers back in and crooked them up against her sweet spot "-- _yes_ , that!"

Bernie could resist no longer and put her mouth to work on Betsy's clit, tonguing her zealously and adding a third finger in her pussy. She felt Betsy's thighs tense on either side of her head -- she was tantalizingly close to coming -- and then that devilish impulse reared its head again.

"... and then end it before they get bored. Leave them wanting more," she all but purred, sitting back on her heels.

Betsy sat bolt upright and grabbed Bernie's arm with desperation burning in her eyes. "Don't. You. Dare."

"I suppose you _do_ have to sign it," Bernie murmured, letting a hint of a smirk show through her feigned reluctance. She eased Betsy back down on the bed and settled herself again between her legs, smiling when Betsy grabbed her hair to keep her there. Slowly, she used her tongue to trace the letters of her name on Betsy's clit, then added, as she had done on her puppy-love letters so long ago, a long string of XOXOXO in quick, short strokes. She felt a little silly remembering her idiot teenage self in such a moment, but that thought fled, along with her access to air, when Betsy arched and came around her.

Bernie extracted herself from the grip of those strong thighs and sat up again to survey her handiwork, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes. 

"Well," Betsy said, still trying to catch her breath, "that was a very ... _intense_ way of writing someone. I like it! Goddamn, do I like it." Then she pushed Bernie onto her back and straddled her. "But I should probably make sure I remember everything you said."


End file.
